


A Time to Murder and Create

by Shiny_n_new



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Millerverse), Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blackmail, Dark, Dark Character, M/M, Rape, Unresolved Sexual Tension, voyuerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_n_new/pseuds/Shiny_n_new
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Clark had a choice, he wouldn't be here</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time to Murder and Create

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the Frank Miller-verse, for LJ's Darkfest. Specifically, sometime between _[The Dark Knight Returns](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dark_Knight_Returns)_ and its [sequel](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batman:_The_Dark_Knight_Strikes_Again). For the uninitiated, Lex and Brainiac team up and steal the bottle-city of Kandor, forcing Superman to work for them while Lex takes over the world. The rest of the superheroes (barring Batman) are similarly blackmailed or imprisoned. There's a lot of other things going on, but that's all you need for this story.

He’s on his knees in front of Lex, trying not to gag as Lex fucks his mouth hard. A part of him, rapidly fading, wants to warn Lex that slamming his hips against Clark’s face is a good way to get a broken pelvis, but he’s not really in a position to speak. He’s not really in a position to do anything.

Lex’s hands are tangled in his hair, and he’s murmuring Clark’s name over and over. If this were a different time, a different place, Clark might have thought it was endearing. Now he knows it’s just Lex’s way of keeping him here and humiliated, reminding him that Lex holds all the cards.

He’d known Lex and Brainiac were planning something, that was the worst part. He’d known, but he’d done nothing, and now it’s hard to feel anything but guilt over his inaction. Guilt and horror. Because they had destroyed the Fortress, and they’d taken Kandor, and now Lex has thousands of lives in his hands that Clark knows will be destroyed in the most sadistic way Lex can think of (and Lex is very sadistic these days).

Unless Clark does what Lex tells him. Unless he obeys.

“Good boy,” Lex murmurs, and Clark closes his eyes and strokes his tongue along Lex’s cock. A part of him wants to pretend this is Bruce. Not because Bruce would be any gentler, because he wouldn’t. And not because Bruce wouldn’t be blackmailing him, because yeah, Bruce would. But the world wouldn’t be in danger if it was Bruce thrusting into his mouth now.

Good ol’ fanatical Bruce. For all his plots and schemes, he’d only ever do something crazy if something equally crazy was being done to him. That’s something Clark’s always counted on; Bruce probably wouldn’t try to take over the world unless the world had already been taken over. 

Unlike Lex. Lex, evil and twisted and still so beautiful in his own way. When he stands just right, or says something that triggers a memory, Clark can still see the young man he used to be. The good man he used to be.

 This is all a lot less traumatizing if he pretends they’re in his barn back in Smallville, or in Lex’s mansion, someplace as safe and familiar as home. He pretends that Lex isn’t so determined to rule Earth that destroying it seems like a valid option, that he hasn’t been crushed and contorted like some diamond of insanity and megalomania, all sharp edges and not a hint of softness anywhere. He’s still Clark’s best friend, and the future is still something bright. Something to look forward to.

He wonders if Bruce is watching them. There’s a camera glinting in the corner of the room. Lex doesn’t know about it, but Clark can see the signal swirling away from it, can see the miniscule heat as the gears inside of it grind together. The list of people who could bug Lex’s office without him knowing about it has always been short, and these days, Bruce is pretty much the only person on the list. 

Lex’s movements are getting jerkier, more irregular, and Clark knows from experience that he’s close to coming. It’s almost surreal, being with Lex this way and not even feeling a hint of arousal or the barest edge of want. But then again, the circumstances have pretty much burned away any real desire Clark has. There’s very little that’s sexy about being blackmailed, he’s come to find out.

But as much as Clark doesn’t want to be doing this, he also doesn’t want to drag it out any longer than he has to. And if it is Bruce watching, well, Clark doesn’t really mind twisting the knife in this instance. He’s had a very bad week, and the part of him that’s always been willing to put up with Bruce and his deep, endless issues has been worn dangerously thin. With all of that in mind, Clark brings his hand up to Lex’s hip and pulls him closer, swallowing Lex all the way down as he does it.

“God, Clark!” Lex growls, hands tightening to fists in Clark’s hair. Clark is pressed against the skin of Lex’s stomach. He can smell cologne and soap and Lex, the scent that’s always just been uniquely _him_. It makes pretending easier. The carpet’s too soft under his knees to be the barn, but he can imagine this as Lex’s penthouse, maybe. A quietly perverse part of him suggests Wayne Manor, and Clark nearly chokes, though he’s not quite sure whether from horror or laughter. 

Clark’s never been less than fully clothed in the Manor, though, so it’s his imagination filling in the gaps. There was a time when he would’ve loved nothing more than to feel the soft carpet of Bruce’s study against his bare back, his knees. But Bruce has never been willing to admit the obvious, even though Clark could hear the way his heartbeat picked up whenever Bruce glanced his way. Even though he could see the way Bruce looked at him. Instead, Bruce treated him with smugness and disgust, so transparent that Clark had barely resisted bursting out laughing a few times because honestly, it was like being in junior high again. God forbid Bruce act like an adult about his feelings.

Lex hisses his name as he comes, and Clark swallows reflexively, hand tightening on Lex’s hip. For a moment, they both rest there, Clark leaning against Lex’s belly, Lex petting Clark’s hair. He has a feeling that he’s not the only one who, very briefly, is trying to pretend that this is something else.

“Not bad, Kent,” Lex says, breaking the moment of peace. Clark keeps his eyes closed, though he can hear Lex zipping up and buckling his belt. The sounds pause for a microsecond when Clark licks his lips, trying to get them clean. “Stay there.” Lex goes to his desk, sits down, and starts making phone calls.

And like a good dog, Clark stays. Lex has Kandor, and whatever’s happened recently to tip Lex over the edge has made him too unpredictable to try bargaining with right now. It’s all very strange. Lex has known Clark’s identity for decades and never used it against him before. When he finally started blackmailing Clark, it was with Kandor, not threats against his mother or his friends at the Planet. It’s like Lex deliberately avoids taking advantage of the knowledge he gained while he and Clark were friends. Clark suspects that when it comes to him, Lex has cognitive dissonance that would rival Bruce’s.

Damn psychotic, genius billionaires. Clark has never before regretted having a type the way he does now.

Kneeling on the carpet in Lex’s office, listening to him threaten some poor underling, it occurs to Clark that Lex said his name. It wouldn’t be a problem, except that Clark’s in his Superman uniform. It’s strange how _that_ anger seems so much sharper and easier to deal with then the slow, simmering rage Clark has felt towards Lex for years now. The bastard hadn’t even had the decency to sweep his office for bugs before he’d said Clark’s name.

He really hopes that’s Bruce’s camera. He’s not sure whether to laugh or start crying. He’s had a very bad week.

Lex has always been good at the small humiliations. Kneeling there, shoulders slumped, Clark is more aware than ever that he’s not going anywhere until Lex lets him. He’s not even getting up until Lex lets him. Clark breathes out heavily, and for a moment he sees his future stretched out before him, interminable and painful. On his knees at Lex’s command, bent over anything Lex wants, open and waiting and always available.

And Clark could survive that, and maybe even do it cheerfully, if he didn’t also know that Lex is going to use him as a weapon, as a spokesperson, as a mouthpiece for the new regime he doubtlessly has planned. It’s that knowledge, the knowledge that Superman is going to be twisted into some tool of Lex’s, that’s making Clark consider going to Bruce.

Bruce is reactive. He will rarely act unless acted against. It works a little differently when Bruce is on patrol and dealing with his familiar enemies in Gotham, true. But when facing issues bigger than one city, Bruce prefers to step back and observe. It could take him years to decide to mount an assault on Lex and Brainiac. Decades, even. Bruce would want to be sure that he’d win, and would call Clark an impulsive idiot for wanting to attack sooner.

But Clark knows that if he went to Bruce and asked, Bruce would get Kandor back for him in record time. He’d do better than Kandor. He’d rescue every member of the Justice League that Lex had imprisoned, every metahuman that Lex had caged. He would complain the entire time and heap insults on Clark, but he would do it if Clark asked.

The problem is, Clark’s not sure if a world where every superpowered being is beholden to Bruce would really be that much safer. Lex at least is entirely selfish in his goals and ambitions. He wanted the world to be his, and he’d shape it how he saw fit because he considered it to be his possession. But Bruce…

Bruce is unpredictable. In many ways, he’s a zealot. There’s only his way, and anyone who disagrees is wrong and very possibly the enemy. That was fine when Bruce’s only mission was protecting an equally insane city. But if Bruce’s mission became saving the entire planet, fixing the world, well, Clark isn’t sure what will happen when the world stubbornly refused to stay fixed. When, in defiance of all Bruce’s wishes, it remained imperfect.

Clark is not sure Bruce wouldn’t destroy the world himself, if given the chance.

So there’s that. And for all Clark’s uncertainty about Bruce’s mental stability, he _knows_ that if he went to Bruce, he personally would be trading one master for the other. Lex at least will probably give him some degree of autonomy, because there’s nothing Lex loves more than playing games. Bruce is a lot less whimsical. Clark would be lucky if he didn’t end up chained to the bed permanently.

 “Kent,” Lex finally says. Clark opens his eyes and looks up at him. Lex is watching him with satisfaction, familiar smirk in place. “Come here.”

Lex rarely calls him by his first name anymore, probably due to that excellent cognitive dissonance that’s currently ruining Clark’s life. He starts to get up.

“No. Crawl.”

Yes, Lex is very good at the small humiliations, because he knew that most of the time, they hurt worse than the big ones. Clark crawls on his hands and knees to Lex. In a perfect world, the camera wouldn’t be able to see this, but Clark doesn’t waste his time hoping. Lex’s desk is glass, and whatever happens underneath it will also be visible.

If Lex and Bruce had gotten together and planned this, they probably still couldn’t have pulled it off so well.

He reaches for Lex’s belt buckle, but Lex pushes his hands away and tilts Clark’s chin up instead. Clark looks up at him evenly, refusing to flinch. Lex studies him, pleasure written all over his face. He runs a hand through Clark’s hair, and Clark wants badly to lean into the touch. Eventually, Lex cups the back of his neck and pulls him forward until Clark’s head is resting against Lex’s knee. It’s surprisingly comfortable, if he overlooks the fact that he’s at Lex’s feet like some kind of pet.

“Stay there,” Lex orders, already back to work. One hand is still on Clark’s hair, stroking him gently. “Later, we’ll see what else you can do with your mouth.”

Clark closes his eyes again. In the back of his mind, he thinks, half-sarcastic and half-deadly serious, _Why don’t you just take over the world yourself_? He stifles a laugh and decides he’ll call that Plan C. In the meantime, though, he tries to go to sleep. It’s doubtful that Lex will be doing anything that’ll require Clark’s full attention. He shifts his head against Lex’s knee and sighs.

 

Miles away, Bruce watches.


End file.
